


Unnatural Philosphy

by sinemoras09



Category: Cordelia (Movie Poster)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, F/M, Frottage, Pining, Regency Romance, Stolen Moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:33:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26622199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinemoras09/pseuds/sinemoras09
Summary: A nighttime meeting. Fic based on the viral poster from Cordelia.
Relationships: Bookish Vicar/Forward Housemaid
Comments: 18
Kudos: 71





	Unnatural Philosphy

Winter came, and with it the evening grew chill with misty cold.

Whilst heading up the stairs, I endeavored to hide the candle, covering the flickering light with my palm extended, lest the offending light bounce unbridled amongst the shadows.

I am, by nature, a solitary fellow. The emptiness of the stone passageways around me may as well serve as my natural habitat. Unlike books, wherein the natural splendor of science and poetry are laid plain, people becloud my understanding. Without friends and few relations, I am most at home alone in my study, having no-one with whom I can share my confidences. One might confuse this with melancholy, sitting by the window, the candle burning, half-extinguished, as I read with ardour those works continual food for curiosity and intellect. It is, however, a singular comfort, the lonely soul thus nourished with bookish companionship.

Outside, the storm began to approach rapidly. Leaving the spot, I descended from my room to observe its progress.

"Master William," a sweet voice said, and I turned, startled at the sound of my own name.

"Ah," I commenced. "Cordelia. The hour is late. Surely there is no need to pick up your sweeping."

"No, Sir," she answered. "The storm is quite loud and thunderous."

Her position, once sheltered from the torchlight, gave way as she stepped forward, revealing her whole figure and countenance. She had an admirable form and the most exquisite little face I ever had the pleasure of beholding; small features, her eyes agreeable in expression. There were times I spied her in the kitchen or the entryways, her eyes meeting mine, always brief but always evincing a sentiment of quiet desperation. A pale shawl slipped down her shoulders, which she drew up with a slender hand.

I smiled kindly, a futile attempt at benevolent magnanimity, but one that exposed my inexperience. "I shall return to my chambers, then," I said.

She bowed, and in the torchlight I could make out the shape of her body beneath her sleeping garments.

I turned, unsettled, when a hand reached out and grasped me by the arm.

"Cordelia," I said in surprise, but the girl pushed up against me.

"Master William," she said, her breasts crushed upon my back, her warm breath tickling my neck. "I fear a fever has come upon me."

"Fever?" I inquired weakly, but she pushed me upon the wall again, violently and unexpectedly, and my cock hardened to an unbearable stiffness. One small hand slid down the front of my chest; the other gripped my hip. She murmured entreatingly.

"A fever ill-advised and devoid of virtue." Her hand slid lower and lower still, a wanton palm covering my straining cockstand. Plush lips brushed upon my neck. "I do not know what has come over me."

"Miss Cordelia," I said, my voice thinned and hesitant, "I will not sully a woman of virtue."

She kissed my neck, her fingers lightly stroking my thickened shape. "In matters of love, I have no virtue."

"Someone will see," I whispered.

"It is night-time in the middle of a storm," she softly answered. "There is no one here who will see."

A firm grip, and I gasped, the upright stanchion of my virility twitching with the sudden friction. O, what wretched tenderness! I longed to push my hips to capture the sensation, her clever grip quickly bringing me to the brink of ruination.

"O, Cordelia," I moaned breathily, "how I wish to take you into my bedchamber and behold the sweetness of your form."

"I give myself to you willingly," she whispered, and she spun me around so that my back was crushed up against the wall, the rim of her pelvis pressed urgently in a most indelicate spot. She kissed me with a ferociousness that belied her frame, her loins rubbing obscenely against my aching flute, sighing into my mouth and shuddering piteously.

And then she broke, pulling back before I could reach my purchase. I let out a ragged gasp as Cordelia pulled her shawl tightly around her, then scurried down the hall.

**Author's Note:**

> Just posting what I have for now; I'd like to expand this to a proper oneshot in the future.


End file.
